


To Look For America

by girl_of_letters



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Concerts, Flower Crowns, Fluff, Gen, Summer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-13 12:10:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2150244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girl_of_letters/pseuds/girl_of_letters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Steve go to an outdoor concert the last Saturday of the summer and meet Bucky, Natasha, and Maria.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Look For America

**Author's Note:**

> the title comes from the song "America" by Simon & Garfunkel because Steve is always realizing that America isn't as virtuous as he thought it was (and I thought it would be hilarious)

It was during the dog days of summer, when the days were slowly dragging on for Steve, when Sam called him to hang out.

 

“Sam, I am NOT going to one of those concerts. There’s probably people smoking cannabis!”

“Pot? Not _everyone_ does it.”

“Even more of a reason for me to not go.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun! We can even meet new people and you can make more friends! Just wear something that looks neo-hippy and those “flower-child” girls will be all over you.”

“Like that’s going to convince me.”

Steve could practically _hear_  Sam raising his eyebrows on the other side of the line. “Fine, whatever. But will you go anyway? I don’t want to go all by myself!”

“Can’t you get one of your other friends to go with you?”

“No! I wanna hang out with you. We haven’t hung out all summer, and besides, it’s the last weekend of summer. We haven’t done anything. Like in at least two weeks.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I guess I'll go. When is it?”

“Saturday, and I’ll come around your place at six to pick you up.”

“Okay.”

 

Saturday came, and at the decided time, Steve was reluctant, but ready to go. He was wearing tight acid wash jeans and a striped, faded orange v neck, with aviator sunglasses and had the beginnings of a scruffy beard when he walked down to the road, where Sam was waiting in his light blue car. Steve opened the passenger door, put his satchel on the floorboard, and then slid onto the passenger seat.

After eyeing Steve, Sam sighed. “Steve,” he said, the exasperation evident in his tone.

“What now? I did literally everything you asked me to do!”

“Steve, I think you confused the _hipster_ look with the _hippy_ look. This concert is supposedly a hippy concert, like from the seventies. But it’s too late for you to change now, it’s not like they’re going to kick you out because of your clothes. And besides, it’s an outdoors concert, there’s not even anywhere for them to kick you out of.” Sam said, driving away.

“You never know,” Steve said, turning to look out the window while he sulked.

 

Once at the concert, however, Steve had cheered up more. The opening group was scheduled to start in a little less than an hour, and people were milling around and getting food from stands on one side of the field. Sam had brought a couple of folding chairs, and the two had set them up about twenty yards away from the makeshift stage in the middle of the field.

“Hey, I’m going to be right back, I’m gonna buy something to drink. Want me to get you anything?” Sam asked, standing up.

“Just get me a coke,” Steve said.

 

Not a minute after Sam had walked away in the vague direction of the vendors, a man approached Steve. He had shaggy brown hair and a flower crown that Steve wasn't sure was ironic, and had four bottles of beer in his arms along with an open can of an unidentifiable beverage clutched in his hands. The next thing he knew, the man had tripped over someone’s poorly-placed blanket, and Steve had a cold, pink liquid all over his arm and lap.

“Shit! Man, I am so sorry. Here, lemme help you,” the man reached into the pocket of his bell-bottom jeans and produced a slightly crumpled handful of napkins, which he proceeded to wipe across Steve’s arm.

Steve stood up. “Let me use them to wipe off my jeans, they got more of... whatever that is than my arm.”

“Here. It’s some fancy soda for Maria. Nat and I drink beer, but she doesn't really like the taste. Or the alcohol. I guess I’ll have to get her another. By the way, what’s your name?”

“I’m Steve.”

“You can call me Bucky,” the man said, shaking Steve’s hand.

“Umm, nice flower crown?” Steve said, making a paltry attempt at small talk as their lack of conversation became awkward.

“Hah, yeah. They dared me into wearing one, and so I got them to wear them, too. Anyway, do you wanna come sit with us? We’re on the other side of the stage.”

“Oh, my friend is getting us drinks," Steve said, gesturing at Sam's chair. "Maybe when he comes back, we’ll move over to where you guys are,” Steve said, and stopped wiping at his jeans, deciding that they were as dry as they were going to get.

“Yeah, that’d be great! Here, I’ll wave to them, so you can see where we’re sitting,” Bucky said. He waved wildly in the direction of two women, until the one with an auburn sidecut caught his eye, and waved back, smiling. “That’s Nat,” he said. “She’s great.”

“Oh, is she your...” Steve trailed off.

“No.” Bucky paused and said “I’m not really into girls,” then winked. “Anyway, see ya when your friend comes back!” And with that, Bucky sauntered towards the girls.

 

About twenty minutes later, Sam came back, two bottles of coke in his hands. “What happened to your jeans? Or is that just the distressed indie look they had in the car?”

“Well, this guy spilled soda all over me,” Steve began.

“Did you kick his ass?”

“No! His name is Bucky, and he was actually nice about it and really apologetic , and asked if we wanted to go sit with him and his friends. Do you want to?”

“Sure,” Sam replied, picking up his folding chair after handing Steve his coke. “Where are they sitting?”

Steve took his coke, then picked up his satchel and his chair. “Follow me.”

The two made their way over. “Bucky, this is Sam,” Steve said.

“Nice to meet you. This is Maria,” Bucky said, gesturing to a girl wearing a long denim skirt, who waved. “And this is Natasha, but I call her Nat,” he continued, pointing at a girl that looked more punk than anything else.

“Hi,” Natasha said.

Just then, a Simon and Garfunkel cover band started playing “Cecilia.”

“You guys can set up your chairs...” Maria trailed off, as she realized there wasn’t really room next to their chairs for Sam and Steve.

“Sam, you can put your chair here, and Maria, you and Nat scoot your chairs up next to Sam, and me and Steve can sit behind you guys,” Bucky said.

 

Everyone was sitting down when the group onstage started playing “America.” Steve was entranced. “Have you never heard this song?” Bucky asked, leaning over to Steve. He shook his head mutely in reply. A few measures later, Bucky shifted, and put his hand, palm up, on his knee. The song came to a close, and Steve gingerly placed his hand in Bucky’s.

Steve thought  _this might become our song_ _,_ before dismissing the idea as too mawkish. Still, he liked the idea that he and Bucky might have things that were  _theirs_.


End file.
